


The first time that _____.

by NotBettaRed



Series: bad ideas [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Attempted Fluff, Backstory, Crime Scenes, Friends With Benefits, Gavin Reed Doesn't Do Feelings, How NOT to dispose of a body, M/M, Mild Angst, Pre-Canon, gunshot wound, one shots, or at least he tries not to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:35:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24429577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotBettaRed/pseuds/NotBettaRed
Summary: A series of somewhat random Hankvin backstory oneshots, for the prompt: Fics that start, "The first time that ______."Including:The first time Gavin slept over.How Gavin ended up as a vegetarian for life.That time when Hank got shot and Gavin freaked the hell out.
Relationships: Hank Anderson & Jeffrey Fowler, Hank Anderson/Gavin Reed, Jeffrey Fowler & Gavin Reed
Series: bad ideas [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1745998
Comments: 15
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

June 18, 2027

The first time that Gavin slept over, it was an accident. He was exhausted from work, and he was exhausted from the workout that Hank had given him after several drinks at the bar, and it wasn't much of a surprise that he had passed out cold. Hank was not complaining. It was actually kind of nice to wake up and realise that he was not alone in the bed. 

He rolled over, and he stretched slowly, feeling the ache in overused muscles. Forty-one wasn't _old_ , but it was possibly a little much to try and pit his libido against that of a man in his twenties. Not that he regretted it for a second. In fact, he was more than willing to go for round two this morning, since Gavin had actually stuck around for once. He reached out, brushing some of the hair out of Gavin's face, trying to wake him up gently. It backfired. 

Gavin jolted awake, pulling back like he had been burned. "What the fuck?" he gasped out, his eyes darting around frantically.

"Easy!" Hank said. "I was just...good morning?"

"Sorry," Gavin gasped out, his breath gradually slowing. "I didn't mean to fall asleep. I'll be out of your hair in just a minute."

"It's not a problem," Hank said. "I told you that you could stay." He had said that the third time that Gavin ended up in his bed, and he had kept saying it. But Gavin had never stuck around for much longer than it took to catch his breath after they were done. "It's fine. Just lay back down, will you?" 

Gavin looked over at him, his eyes darting away before they could really make contact. "Sorry. I don't--" he broke off, bit down on his lip and stared up at the ceiling, then let out a gust of air. "I don't do this. The sleeping over thing. I must have been more tired than I thought."

"It happens," Hank said. He reached out, more cautiously this time, and let out a breath of relief when Gavin turned his face into the touch, not pulling away this time. "It's okay. Mornings can be nice."

Gavin rolled closer, pressing up against Hank, his body warm and soft. "I don't do morning sex," he said. 

"That's okay," Hank said, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him closer. "Don't need morning sex." He leaned in, looking for a kiss, and was more than happy when Gavin responded.

"Right now I'm kind of wishing I did, because fuck," Gavin said, pulling back and sucking in air. "But I've got to sit in a cruiser all day, and…"

"Well, I wouldn't want to get in the way of your work," Hank said, but he let his hand slide down Gavin's back to cup his ass. That got the response he wanted, with Gavin letting out a groan and pressing forward, obviously hard. The kiss went on for several long moments, but then, with a curse, he pulled away.

"I'm sorry," Gavin said. "I really can't. It's just that I've got to go soon, still have to swing by my apartment, and I--"

"Yeah, I get it," Hank said. He offered up another kiss, more chaste this time, and then pulled back. "You want to meet up tonight? I'll buy you a drink," he offered. That wasn't something that they'd done before. Actually planning it out ahead of time. They just kept running into each other at the bar, having a few drinks, and then falling into bed. Trying to schedule it, well, that felt like a step.

Gavin frowned, his brow furrowing, like it was actually a big decision that he was making. "Yeah. Okay," he leaned forward, pressing another light kiss to Hank's lips. "Tonight. Sounds like fun."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one might hit some squicks. It's where the "how NOT to dispose of a body" tag comes in. I tried not to be overly descriptive, but if you nope out and hit next chapter, no judgement here.

September 20, 2027

The first time that they spent time together, without actually having sex, was the night of the "barbeque". Hank got called into a crime scene, a dealer that he had been trying to take down for months had turned up dead. It should have been a celebration. He had been trying to get this scumbag for months. But, well, not like this.

When he arrived at the scene, there was a uni leaned up against one wall, puking his guts out. Rookie, Hank thought automatically, because he had seen that before. It happened. Your first DB, even if you thought you were ready, sometimes the guts just rebelled. Really, it was a rite of passage. He walked over, made a damn good effort to keep any judgement out of his voice, and asked, "You okay?"

"I'm fine," the uni replied, sucking in a loud gasp of air. "Just the _smell_." He looked up, and Hank realised it was Gavin. Not actually a rookie. "Shit. It's you," Gavin said. "Ignore this, please. I'm not...I can deal with a DB, okay? This one just…"

"No judgement here," Hank said honestly. "What are we looking at?"

"They tried to burn the body," Gavin said, "but they ended up just...cooking it. Fuck. It's bad. Just try not to breathe when you go in there."

Hank frowned, not really understanding, but he nodded and gave him a brief pat on the shoulder. "Okay," he said. "You just get some air." Once he stepped inside, and took too deep of a breath, then he understood. It smelled like a fourth of July barbeque. It took him another moment to realise that what he was smelling _was_ the DB. His stomach churned. 

"What have we got?" Hank asked, not really looking forward to the answer. Another uniformed officer stepped forward, filled him in on the details. Someone had killed his ice dealer, chopped up the body, and shoved it into the oven, setting it to broil and probably hoping that would get rid of the evidence. It hadn't. That explained the smell, at least.

Hank did his job. Catalogued the evidence, listened to the report from the ME, and took down notes. Any satisfaction that he felt from knowing that asshole wouldn't be selling anymore ice to highschool kids, well, that was offset by the smell. He finished up just as quickly as he could and then rushed outside, sucking in deep, cleansing, lungfuls of air. 

"I'm sorry."

Hank looked over and saw Gavin, hands shoved deep in his pockets, head down, face red and creased with chagrin. "Don't beat yourself up," Hank said. "That was...it was bad."

"No, I should've handled it better. I should've--"

"I almost puked myself," Hank said. "It was bad."

"Right."

"You have plans for tonight?" Hank asked.

"I'm really not in the mood."

"Not really what I was aiming for," Hank said. "Just, after a scene like this, it might be nice not to be alone."

"My shift is already over," Gavin said. "Just have to finish up here."

"Okay. I'll find you at the station, after?"

He finished up at the scene, and headed back to the precinct, and did the bare minimum on his paperwork. The rest could wait until morning. It didn't take much searching to find Gavin, and they both piled into his car without bothering with conversation. Hank steered the car towards the diner they had been hitting up more and more often. They were practically regulars at this point. A common pitstop between drinks at the bar and Hank's bed. When the waitress asked if they wanted their usual, burgers and fries, they both nodded, then went back to staring at the tabletop between them.

"You don't have to be embarrassed," Hank said.

"I'm not squeamish," Gavin snapped, like his pride was on the line, and to his eyes, it probably was. "I've seen DB's before. Just last week I was there when they pulled a floater out of the lake, probably been there for a month. Never smelled anything like it. It was awful. And I was _fine_."

"Okay," Hank said.

"It's just that I skipped breakfast this morning. So by the time we turned up at the scene, I was starving. Then I smelled--" he broke off, looked away, looked kind of green.

"Okay," Hank said again. "Really, it's okay. We've all been there."

They both kept staring at the table, Gavin trying to protect his pride, Hank trying to pretend he didn't notice. When their food finally came, it was a welcome distraction. Hank picked up his burger, giving it his full attention.

Gavin picked up his burger, took a single bite, and his face went pale. He pressed his fist against his mouth and choked down the bite of food. "Yeah," he said weakly, words muffled by his hand, "that's exactly what it smelled like." He pushed the plate away so hard it almost flew off the table. "I can't--I have to--" Gavin jumped to his feet and bolted in the direction of the restrooms.

Hank dropped his own burger onto the plate, feeling slightly queasy himself. That _was_ what it had smelled like. The diner might have been a mistake. 

A few moments later the waitress reappeared, looking concerned. "Is there a problem with the food?"

"No," he assured her. "The food was fine. I just don't think we're in the mood for burgers tonight." Or anytime in the near future, at least not until he had forgotten what that house had smelled like. "Could you just get rid of these? Maybe bring us some pancakes. Coffee too, we're going to need a lot of coffee."

"Sure thing, hun," she said. "I'll have those right out." The plates were cleared away, and Hank had to admit that he was glad to see them go.

Gavin showed back up a few minutes later, looking sheepish as he sank back down into his chair. He opened his mouth, looking like he was going to apologise, and Hank held up a hand to cut him off. "Don't say it," Hank said. "Burgers were definitely a bad call. I think it's going to be a few days before I can stomach one. Or barbeque, or ste--"

"Please stop talking about meat," Gavin said, rubbing at his face with both hands. "Fuck. Right now I don't think I'll ever be able to eat meat again."

"That'll pass," Hank promised, "but for now, I ordered us some pancakes."

"Thanks," Gavin said, "and thanks for not laughing, or whatever. God, my partner is going to be giving me shit about this for _months_. Almost two years on the force, and he still treats me like a damn rookie."

"Can't have that," Hank said, biting back a grin. With just two years on the force, Gavin _was_ still a rookie. "Want me to rough him up for you?"

That actually got a laugh out of Gavin. "No, I'm pretty sure I can handle it."

Their food came, round two, and Hank didn't say anything when Gavin only picked at his. Not surprising, after the night his stomach had already had. Eventually he just pushed the plate away and focused all his attention on the coffee, drinking it down like he was planning to never sleep again. The waitress showed up twice to refill the cup. Maybe Hank should have asked for decaf.

"Look," Hank said, after the plates had been cleared away. "I know you said you're not in the mood for anything tonight, but you want to come over anyway? We can put on a movie, you can crash on my couch."

Gavin gave him a long look over the rim of his coffee cup, eyebrows furrowed, and eyes more than a little bit suspicious. Hank tried not to take it personally. Six months of increasingly frequent hookups had taught him that the kid had some weird trust issues, especially when it came to spending the night. The few times that Gavin had intentionally slept over, Hank had woken up to find him on the couch. Yeah, he found it weird at first, but he was willing to shrug it off. Everyone had their quirks.

"Okay," Gavin said eventually, "but I get to pick the movie."


	3. Chapter 3

April 12, 2028

The first time that Gavin realised he had a real problem, that maybe _feelings_ were starting to get involved--and seriously, _fuck that_ \--was the day that Hank almost died. Except that no, Hank didn't almost die, didn't even come close, really, but Gavin didn't know that at the time. He just knew that he had showed up at work early, like he always did, and headed to the breakroom for some coffee, like he always did, but the room was crowded with officers and detectives, some of them even off duty, all talking in hushed whispers. Then he heard what they were saying.

A bust had gone bad, and shots were fired, and Hank Anderson, rising star of the department, was in the hospital. No one actually knew the details, and speculation ranged from 'it was bad', to Hank was already dead, actually, but no one had announced it yet. Gavin's stomach had dropped, and his heart had stopped, and he had fucking panicked. He at least had the presence of mind to find his partner and tell him that he was leaving before he took off. Later, he wouldn't even be able to remember how he had gotten to the hospital. 

He just remembered rushing up to the front desk, shouting something at the unfortunate woman behind the terminal, and between flashing his badge, being in uniform, and whatever words he actually managed to get out, he had found out that yes, Hank was alive, and got the number for the room he was in. The elevator ride was a blur, and when he got out he was not at all surprised to find out that the waiting room and hallway were filled with other members of the DPD. That was just what happened when a cop got shot. 

Gavin should have taken a moment to think. He should have just blended in with the crowd and tried to get some answers. Maybe they had been fooling around for over a year at that point, but they sure as hell weren't advertising their fuckbuddies relationship. But, panic was still the force behind the wheel, so Gavin didn't slow down to think and just headed directly for the room he had been told Hank was in. When he reached the door, logic finally broke through, and so he didn't just bust in, even though the door was standing wide open. 

He took a deep breath, then looked through the open doorway, and Hank was fucking fine. He was sitting up in bed, bandage around one bicep, arm in a sling, but he was fine. His free hand was gesturing wildly as he talked to a woman that Gavin recognised as Hank's partner. Not dead. Not even badly injured. Gavin let out a breath of relief, sagged against the doorframe, and that was when Hank looked up and noticed that he was there.

"Hey, can you give us a second?" Hank said to his partner. She looked at Gavin, raised one eyebrow, then rolled her eyes. Shaking her head, she left the room, not saying a thing.

"Fuck," Gavin said, once she was out of earshot. "I heard that you'd been shot, I thought...fuck. I thought you were _dead_."

"I'm fine," Hank said. He shrugged his shoulder, moving his injured arm, not proving a damn thing other than that they had given him the good drugs. "Just a flesh wound."

"Flesh wound my ass," Gavin said, taking a few steps closer. "It was a fucking bullet. You could have _died_."

"I'm fine," Hank said again, reaching out with his good hand.

Gavin stepped forward, latched onto the hand hard enough to hurt. Or, at least, hard enough that it would have hurt without the good drugs; at the moment Hank wasn't feeling shit. "Shit," Gavin said. "When I heard that you'd been shot I thought…"

"You were worried," Hank said, a wide grin splitting his face.

"I wasn't."

"You actually care," Hank said, tugging him closer. 

"I really, really don't," Gavin lied, even as he sank down onto the edge of the hospital bed. "Fuck. Promise me you won't do this again."

"What? Get shot?" Hank asked.

"Yeah," Gavin said. He let himself be drawn forward. He knew that it was a ridiculous request. Cops didn't choose when someone decided to pull a gun. But still, "Promise me."

"Okay," Hank said. Their foreheads pressed together. They both squeezed their eyes shut. "I promise."

"Good," Gavin said. Because there was no way in fuck he was doing this again. "I can't--" he tilted his head, was about to press their lips together, and then he heard someone clearing their throat, _loudly_ , right behind him. Gavin jerked away from Hank like he had been burned. Stood up and stepped away. He let go of Hank's hand, wiped his own hands off on his uniform trousers. Then he turned, and saw Fowler standing there in the doorway, an extremely disapproving look on his face.

There were not many people in the world whose opinion Gavin actually cared about. Jeffrey Fowler was on the short list. It was because of him that Gavin had even become a cop. Without him, Gavin would have likely died an early and entirely unremarkable death on the streets, at a very young age. Gavin owed him everything. At the very least, he should stick around to explain.

The first few years that he'd known Fowler, the man had tried damn hard to talk Gavin out of some of his worst habits. He'd told him that going out and picking a fight every time he was in a bad mood was just going to end with him dead. So Gavin tried to do better. He'd told him that sleeping his way through the DPD was going to cause problems with his career, when he finally made the switch from intern to full member of the force. So Gavin tried to do better.

Gavin _had_ done better. He had stopped getting in as many fights. He had kept his hookups brief, and anonymous, and well outside the walls of the precinct. At least he had tried to, right up until that night a year ago when he'd picked Hank up in that bar. He'd known that it was a bad idea, not just because of his career, but because he knew from stories he'd heard that Hank and Fowler were friends, and that could be a real complication. So, a very bad idea. But Gavin had been a little bit drunk, and Hank had been too fucking hot, and shit happened.

"Jeffrey," Gavin said, floundering. "I was just...he got shot. And I…?" He shot a frantic look at Hank, then dragged both hands across his face. "I'm supposed to be on patrol. Like _right now_ ," he said. He shot one last look at Hank, "Call me before they turn you loose?" And then he fled, like a coward.

\---

Hank sat up straighter in his hospital bed, trying to push back the fog of the very good drugs that was making him not care too much about the bullet that had torn a path through his arm. A few seconds ago, he was just coming to terms with the fact that Gavin actually cared about him, beyond just the admittedly amazing sex he was providing. Now he actually had to justify that amazing sex to his best friend, who was glaring at him with very judgemental eyes.

"I got shot," Hank said, in his own defense.

"So I heard," Jeffrey said, still looking incredibly judgemental.

"Right through the arm," Hank said, pointing at the bandage around his bicep. He winced, tried to make it look like he was actually in pain, despite the drugs, but abandoned that tract when it was obvious that it wouldn't work. "So, how do you know Gavin?" he asked warily, when it became apparent that diversion wasn't going to work.

Jeffrey just crossed his arms, glaring at Hank, and Hank felt a sudden stab in the gut, making him sit up straighter. "Fuck," Hank said, "tell me that you're not sleeping with him." Casual had been the name of the game with Gavin. _Aggressively_ casual even. Any attempt to dig deeper had been met with a brick wall. If Gavin had other bed partners, well, it really wasn't Hank's place to judge. It certainly wasn't his place to go getting jealous. But that was definitely a big ugly surge of jealousy that he was feeling at the thought. 

"Of course I'm not sleeping with him," Jeffrey said, his face creasing with disgust. "He's just a kid! But, from what I've just seen, I have to assume that you are. What the hell, Hank?"

"He's no kid," Hank retorted automatically. His mind very helpfully supplied a very long list of not at all childlike memories to remind him. He shut that line of thought down hard. This was not the time or the place. "He's twenty-five." His mind did an automatic calculation against his own age, and Hank shut that down too. He really didn't need math showing up right now and making him feel like a dirty old man. "How, exactly, do you know him?" he asked again.

"If he wanted you to know, then I think he would have told you," Jeffrey said.

"He's not really the talkative type," Hank said, and that was definitely the truth. They glared at each other for a long moment, then Jeffrey sighed and looked away. Hank didn't want to count that one as a win. Bullet wounds aside, this really wasn't an argument he was planning on having today. It wasn't even a topic he was planning on thinking about today.

"You got shot," Jeffrey said, after a long and significant pause.

"Right through the arm," Hank agreed.

"You need to be careful."

"Yeah. Not planning on getting shot again," Hank said.

Jeffrey just stared at him, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. They still weren't talking about bullet wounds. Okay then. Hank sighed, and rubbed at his eyes. "Look, I can tell you want to throw down over this," Hank said, "and that you're only holding back because I took a bullet in the arm. So will you put away the glares if I promise you can yell at me later?" If nothing else, maybe that would at least give him a chance to talk to Gavin first, find out what the history there was. If the kid would actually talk.

"Okay then," Jeffrey said. " _Later._ " He walked over, dropped down into the chair next to Hank's bed, finally losing the judgemental expression. "Anyone tell you yet that we got the shooter?"

"Thank fuck," Hank said, letting out a sigh of relief. Both from his brief reprieve, and from hearing that they'd caught the perp. "Who took him down?" Then he leaned back in the bed and let Jeffrey fill him in on everything that had happened in the last few hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I borrowed some Gavin backstory from Detroit Evolution, which I have watched at least twenty times.
> 
> There might be more chapters of this, but I'm really trying to focus on a post-game casefic for now. If there are more, the next one will probably be "the first time they actually talked," following up on this chapter.
> 
> Also, I made a Tumblr, where I'll be posting random unused fic snippets. It's over [here](http://notbettared.tumblr.com).


End file.
